Waiting

I am back in the waiting area of a hospital. This time it's a different hospital but the feeling is the same - tired of waiting. Waiting for time to turn around, waiting for someone to tell me what is going on with my body and lead me to the path of healing. It's been 6 years since my symptoms of undiagnosed chronic pain/discomfort started, yet I have no name for it. It’s not that I did not try to find out the identity of this unpleasant visitor but after seeing 5-6 health professionals, I gave up on hope of having it named. It refused to leave so I rather tried to coexist with the intruder and somehow I managed to do so over the years. I managed to tame it so that it wouldn't shake my world but this time it came at me with a force, leaving me alarmed. Hence, I am here again in this waiting area in hopes of having it named and eventually find a way to get rid of it or atleast have an idea how to deal with it when it starts creating a havoc. C010 that's my token number. “Your turn is after nine people. Please wait for your turn” the coupon said. It took two hours for my turn to come.

Hospital is the last place I want to be at. It brings all the unpleasant memories of the endless hours that I had spent in past in waiting lines laden by anxiety about what the doctor might say, and coming out of the place with no definite answers and sometimes statements like “I don't know how to help you.” It makes me feel lonelier than ever. It doesn’t help that I am usually by myself during those visits. In the beginning, I asked my family members to accompany me, but after hearing multiple “bhyaudaina”, or them implying I am making a big deal out of simple health discomforts, I stopped asking altogether and started making the visits alone.

I looked around me. There were many people like me, probably waiting for their own answers or looking for a solution/relief. I wondered if any of them were there on their own like me. An elderly man probably around my father's age was dozing off while sitting. At first I thought, he was there alone but when his turn came, I saw a woman standing alongside him carrying his medical records and following him to the consultation room. There was another middle aged lady besides me who just like me was looking at the token number display board, impatiently for past one hour. She hadn't spoken a word to anybody by that time, which made me assume that she might be alone too. But after an hour, I saw her talking to the guy next to her, a young man probably in his twenties. It turned out she wasn’t alone either. He was talking to her respectfully but there was a formality in their interaction. They did not seem to be immediate family members. Regardless, I was glad that she had someone to help her navigate the hospital bureaucracy when she was not at her best. It seemed like everybody there was with someone. Even those I had first thought were alone had a person by their side. Many of them were chatting with each other, but there were few who would be in their own world until the name of the patient was called. There was a middle aged couple like that. Husband was fixated in his phone with a frown on his face the entire time. The wife was zoning out earlier but later she decided to lie down on the attached seats. She fell asleep. Once it was her turn, husband went to call his wife hurriedly. He still had the frown on his face. Whether it was a frown resulted by his concern towards his wife or it was annoyance that he was expressing, I could not tell. Husband took the bag with her medical records, wife woke up tried to make sense of her surroundings, placed her hands on her head for few seconds making it look like she was having some headache, she stood up regardless, carried her handbag and headed out towards the consultation room. There was no exchange of warm words or gestures in their interaction; interaction that was not even visible until the end. They somewhat reminded me of my own parents. My mom who herself struggles with series of health issues never likes to go to hospitals with my dad because of his aloof, distant nature and his lack of expression of love and care and sometimes lack of sensitivity too. “Ta jaile ko aestai ta hos ni” bhannu hunchha ghari ghari. Malai kasto naramro lagchha. Dui sabda talai k bhayo bhanera sodhnu hunna, aja aesto bachan launu hunchha.” This is something my mom has shared multiple times with me and my brother while voicing her hurt. Feeling of being not understood, feeling of her pain being not seen is what she would be trying to express with us. I don't know if the couple I saw in that waiting area that day have the similar equation like my parents but the care and warmth for a person struggling with a health issue was definitely not clearly visible for an outsider like me.

Gesture of care comes in different forms though. After the earlier elderly lady sitting beside me was called for her turn, another lady who seemed to be of similar age bracket took that seat. She looked restless and in discomfort. I got a chance to have a short conversation with her. She have had two surgeries for tumors already and there she was to consult with a doctor about radiotherapy session and some medicine. While she was sharing all this, her sister came and told her the doctor they were about to consult was not present in the hospital and the hospital management was still not sure from which day he will join. They then decided to go to emergency instead so that they can consult with some doctor about the medicine as it did not look wise to wait any longer. Her sister looked lost and frustrated trying to figure out what to do next, yet she was there. She took the hand of the lady so that she would have a support while walking. It may not seem like a big deal. But for a patient or someone struggling with their health - and this is coming from a person who has been both a patient and an attendant - a person making their presence feel through as small of a gesture as holding your hand to support you walk can also mean a lot.